Gustave could not keep still. He left the office, and ran all the way to Fanny's house; then stopped and looked at his watch. It was barely nine o'clock; impossible to call upon her so early. The young man walked up Faubourg Poissonniere and kept on past the barrier; little he cared where he went, so long as the time passed. Suddenly he ran into a tree, which his complete absorption in his thoughts had prevented his seeing. At that, he halted and looked about him, and was surprised to find that he was in the open country. But he felt that the air was keener and purer there, that it refreshed the mind and calmed the beating of the heart; and he sat down at the foot of the tree. He breathed more freely, he felt sensibly relieved. Ah! what a skilful physician the air is, and what marvellous cures we owe to it! Gustave sat for a long while at the foot of the tree, which was bare of leaves; for it was late in October. He reviewed in his mind the whole of Fanny's conduct during the last two days, and wondered if his uncle were right after all. At last he rose and returned to Paris. It was nearly eleven o'clock when he reached the young widow's door. But he could wait no longer; he rang the bell violently, and the maid ushered him into her mistress's presence. XLIX THE SECOND TIME Fanny was sitting by the fire, in a dainty morning gown; for she was a woman who never allowed herself to be surprised in deshabille; but her expression was cold and stern, as of a person who had made up her mind and was prepared for a rupture. "I have come a little early, I fear," said Gustave, taking a seat, and seeking in vain an affable smile on the widow's features; "but you will surely forgive my impatience, I was so anxious to see you. I had almost no chance to speak to you last night, and I had so many things to say!" "I, too, wished to speak with you, monsieur. I, too, have several things to say to you." "_Monsieur!_ What! you call me _monsieur?_ What does that mean?" "In heaven's name, let us not quibble over words. If I call you _monsieur_ now, I do so in consequence of certain reflections I have made since yesterday. Do you know that I don't like to be followed, spied upon; that a jealous man is an unendurable creature to me?" "Ah! you are trying to quarrel with me, madame?" "No, I am not; but I am telling you frankly the subject of my reflections; and the result of those reflections is----" "Is what? go on, madame." "Is that I am afraid that I shall not make you happy, Gustave. I am naturally giddy, frivolous,--but I cannot change,--and my temperament would not harmonize at all with yours. Consequently we shall do much better not to marry. Oh! I have come to this decision solely in my solicitude for your happiness." Gustave sprang to his feet so suddenly that the little widow could not restrain a gesture of terror. He took his stand in front of her, with folded arms, and gazed sternly at her, saying: